issue 35: october 1997

E D I T O R I A L

Welcome to Pravda, ceaseless proponent of bottom-notch journalism and stylistic relic of a horrific past which never happened. It's five years of Pravda this issue, and thirty five issues of Pravda this month. A feat, you may think. A foot, I reply. But casting aside such trite comments I'd like to thank, as usual, all Pravda's contributors who have helped make this issue what like it is. And it whats well.

Another thing:

the Editor

C O N T E N T S

This month the failures flopping from an overheated frying pan:

(Ad)vice from the Vice Charmseller: he's a mean old barsteward.

First WC In Space - In Orbit...

Gardenerds battle against time

Ask Mr Fatuous: questions you didn't want to ask answered in a manner you hoped never to identify. Could be a winner

Wicked Kit - dissect a root vegetable with this natty new techie-gismo, the Vegetator

Pravda on the Underground more poems

The Pravda one-part serial: In Celebration of my Imperial Roots by T 'Killer' Dipper

The Misadventures of Dorothea Psymthe, Pensioner Extraordinary: the weatherbeaten bipedal dreadnaught finds pillars and sharp bends are no match.

Truth Without Accuracy: new series!

Students on Wheels: we look at student-friendly transports of delight and give them the thumbs-partly up and partly down treatment; this month, looking good for the Viva.

Letters written by delinquents